


Reinforcement

by ameonna (zetsubonna), melospiza (orphan_account)



Series: Throw Down the Gauntlet [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asthma, Best Friends, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Dubious Consent, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Makeup Sex, Old Friends, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pushy Bucky, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:05:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/ameonna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/melospiza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a good guy, and Bucky's crazy about him, but he'll be the first to tell you, the little punk ain't always the easiest person to live with. That mouth? The one that gets him in fist-fights? It ain't like it turns off just because he likes you. No, Steve's bad-tempered sass is just as much a part of Steve as his sense of justice, and sometimes it hits the wrong target.</p><p>Bucky's tough, sure. He can shake off a certain amount of derision. Sometimes, though, the timing ain't so hot. Maybe it's because Steve's never had a steady gal; he doesn't seem to realize it ain't a good idea to be so damn disdainful when somebody's trying to be soft on you. A fella's got his pride, you know?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reinforcement

Steve sat with his palms on his temples and his elbows on the rickety table, trying to get his head together.

Bucky was still Bucky, and Steve was still Steve, which meant Bucky was loud, fussy, and deeply tenderhearted, and Steve was sourfaced and occasionally went off at the mouth. He hadn't intended it, he really hadn't, but life was complicated, wasn't it?

There were still girls, there would always be girls, they would likely draw more attention if Bucky stopped going after girls, and really, Steve didn't mind the girls, not even a little bit, not even at all. It was just that with girls came dance halls, bars, cigarettes, cigars, sweat, cologne, powder, perfume and a million smells, and there were certain places Steve couldn't have smells, for example, in his own damn bed, and why hadn't he just said that?

"Hey, Buck, hey. Not here. Your bed, Bucky. By the window, come on, I don't mind a tumble but I'm gonna need a little air."

In a gentle voice. A sweet voice. Low and soft, with his fingers combing Bucky's tumbledown hair back from his forehead and his lips grazing the stubble on Bucky's jaw. That would have sounded so much better. Felt better. Ended better, hopefully, than this.

What he'd said, instead, because it was two in the morning and the first attempt at breathing had made his head spin, was slurred with sleep and snappy. "Get off, you stink." Bucky had gone stock-still, snarled, and stomped right back out the door, slamming it behind him and earning a bellow of annoyance from both upstairs and down.

"You're an idiot, Rogers," Steve muttered to himself, dragging himself up from the chair and moving to the kitchen. He pushed himself up on the tips of his toes to get the scotch from the top shelf and poured three fingers into a tumbler and rolled it around the glass. "You got what you wanted, and you can't even handle it."

He sipped it, and it burned, and Bucky would bless him out if he caught him drinking when he'd been throwing up with his ulcers a week ago. Their last fight had sparked that off.

Bucky knew that Steve getting riled ended in fistfights in the street, but he also knew the fistfights were the quick-and-easy part. Anxiety and anger aggravated his ulcers, panic tightened his lungs, tension headaches blurred his vision and stress kicked his sugar out of whack. He would argue with Steve anyway, because capitulation would have turned Steve into a bully, so if Steve wasn't going to just go along with Bucky and they were going to butt heads, they were just going to have to tangle until Steve found a better way of explaining his feelings than just some off-the-cuff sass about how he wasn't Bucky's dame.

Their last fight had been about kisses, of all the stupid things. Bucky would put his keys in the bowl, his lunch pail on the counter, grab Steve by the waist and kiss him right on the mouth, and Steve's heart would hammer into his throat and his vision would go white, and after the third time he tried to shove Bucky off with "I ain't your wife!" they had started stomping and shoving at each other. Bucky knew just how hard he could shove Steve before it actually hurt him, and Steve knew when Bucky was holding back, so he was forced to work through his tangled up head and explain that what he _meant_ was that he didn't want kisses to be a casual routine, he wanted them to mean more than just _hello_.

Bucky thought that was dumber than shit. He _liked_ kissing Steve just to say hello, he'd had to work up the nerve for ages and it sure as hell wasn't _casual_ , but he promised he'd try to keep Steve's feelings in mind.

Hello kisses got a lot better after that. They weren't every day, but they were better when they happened. It was a compromise.

Steve needed to learn to get better at compromise. He rinsed out his mouth with the scotch again, letting it burn down to his stomach, prickle, boil, knowing it was a bad idea for him to even touch the stuff.

"You can't just crawl on top of me straight off a night at the bar," Steve was muttering into his glass, trying to reason out his words. "It's bad enough you smoke in the window- not that I want you to stop doin' it, makes you look so beautiful I could die- but you can't come in here boozed up, reeking like an ashtray in a whorehouse, fall on top of me and expect me to filter with your goddamn weight on my chest and your hand in my pants making me flap around like a dumped out goldfish. I'm a wheezy little cuss who can barely get a breath in on a good day, the hell do we keep tryin' to pretend I'm _normal_ for?"

Steve would sooner carve out his eyeballs than cry about it, so he seethed in silence until he finished his drink, glaring at the bottle and seriously contemplating a second even though it would make him sick.

He heard shuffling on the stairs, and he scrambled up out of the chair, screwing the bottle closed and trying to hop up and put it back in the cabinet, but he didn't get it closed in time. Bucky's keys scrambled in the lock and the bottle tipped back off the shelf, and Steve pushed himself up as far as he could on the tips of his toes to make sure it was in place, and he was still stretched out and holding himself up with the counter when Bucky opened the door.

"Punk," Bucky snapped. "I ain't gonna keep liquor in here if you can't stay out of it every time you go off at the mouth and feel guilty. You wanna be the kinda Irish everybody says we are, you can do it on your own nickel."

"I ain't- I wasn't-" Steve puffed up at him like an irate cat, and Bucky locked the door behind him, crossing his arms over his chest and putting his shoulders out straight the way Pa Barnes had always done right before somebody got a pop across the ass, and Steve wished he had the build to just _disapprove_ like that.

"The Hell?" Bucky demanded, jerking his chin forward.

"I just-" Steve paused, rolling his eyes, his shoulders hunching inward, his hand coming up to rub at his forehead. "I wasn't thinkin'."

"You don't think a lot more often than a lot of folks would guess," Bucky observed, chilly.

"What I _meant_ ," Steve pressed, the blush that had started in his ears migrating across his cheeks and starting to dip down his bare chest, "Was that I was afraid with you- with all those- with the cigarettes in your clothes and your hair and the perfume and the sweat, it was just too many _smells_ , Buck, and you had all your clothes on, so they were all _clumped up together_ , and my bed's not near enough the window, and I didn't want- we got so scared last time I-"

His voice was getting lower, his eyes falling from Bucky's face to his chest.

"You thought you were gonna start wheezin' on me again," Bucky finished, his tone irritable but quieter.

"Yeah," Steve mumbled, resting the hand not on his forehead on his hip where it jutted out above his pajama pants. "I mean, if you were- if you took a shower or at least just, you know, took your clothes off, or we were in your bed, or I was on top of you, it mighta been okay, but-"

"But you were sleepy and you didn't think it through, you just barked."

"Right."

"Shitty little punk. Come here."

Steve sighed and came closer, frowning, his eyes still on Bucky's tie as he loosened it.

"Can't fuckin' tell a guy he stinks," Bucky scolded him, ruffling his fingers through Steve's hair and kissing his forehead before shoving at the side of his head lightly. "Make me feel like you don't want me at all."

"Don't be stupid," Steve mumbled, unbuttoning Bucky's shirt. "It ain't you. You're aces. Dance halls, I can live without, but you can't, so I just gotta try to keep a civil tongue in my mouth."

"Damn right," Bucky said, shoving his head again before leaning down and breathing in the scent of Steve's hair. "Fuck you, anyway."

"Not fresh out of the dance hall," Steve glared mildly up at him and the corner of Bucky's mouth twitched. "Take a damn shower first. Tryin' to kill me."

"Worse ways to die than freshly screwed and happy," Bucky advised, shrugging as Steve worked him out of his shirt. "At least I'd make sure you were dressed before the medics got here."

"Thanks, Buck," Steve shook his head, working Bucky's undershirt out of his pants and then dropping it to handle his belt. "You're the best fella a guy could have."

"And don't I know it." He peeled his shirts off and dropped them on the floor. "Do I really need a shower?"

"I don't know," Steve squirmed, shuffling his bare feet against the floor. "Maybe not. What do you want to do?"

"You," Bucky's hands flexed before they worked over Steve's hips and slid into the top of his pajama pants, dipping underneath to caress the smooth skin at the top of his ass. "I wanna do you, obviously. That was the whole reason I got my damn hand clawed up, wasn't it, pussy cat?"

"Back off," Steve growled. "Ain't cute."

"Nah, you're the cute one," Bucky agreed, dropping his hands from Steve's ass to push his slacks, belt and undershorts to his feet, then chucking Steve's chin up with his index finger and licking his mouth. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes. "Don't be so cold, baby."

"I'm sorry," Steve whispered, his eyes still lowered and shy, blushing again, the pink spreading down past his nipples. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I wasn't- I was scared. I shouldn'ta snapped. I didn't mean it."

"Fix all of it," Bucky suggested, flicking off the light and starting to push Steve backward, across the apartment and toward Bucky's bed with a combination of kisses and shoves. "Fix everything. Naked, my bed, you on toppa me. Nothin' to worry about. Mm. I know what extra you can do, too, if you wanna make me real happy."

"Ugh," Steve complained, nearly tripping over the edge of the rug. "What else do you want?"

"I want you to do it," Bucky was grinning, his tongue darting across his lips before he kissed the end of Steve's nose and made his eyes cross. "I want you to straddle my stomach and open yourself up and sit on it."

"Christ!" Steve swore, and the blush got so fierce Bucky could see it in the dark. "You ain't serious."

"I'm serious," Bucky insisted, catching Steve's elbow to keep him from tripping on the rug and backing him right up to the edge of the bed. "I'm absolutely serious. It's hot as Hell. Your eyes roll back and your tongue comes out and you look like you're gonna faint."

Steve huffed. "I didn't hurt your feelings that bad, you pervert."

"You did," Bucky nipped at his mouth. "You punched me in the heart, you little shithead. S'the _least_ you can do for me. You gotta do it, and you gotta _want_ to, because you wanna make me happy, don't you?"

Steve's shoulders hunched up to his ears, and he waited for Bucky to sit on the bed before he crawled into his lap, still wearing pajama pants, even though Bucky was naked. "The Hell do I even see in you?"

"Please," Bucky said, and Steve knew he had lost, because Bucky switching tactics meant he had already won. His hands curled over Steve's hips, his lips brushing Steve's jaw, his dark, smoky blue eyes half-closed and warm in the glow that filtered through their cheap, ragged curtains. He smirked against Steve's mouth as he kissed him again, slow and soft. "C'mon, Steve. Quit actin' tough. Ain't nobody in here buyin' it. You _wanna_ make me happy. I know you do."

"I'm dumber than a box of rocks," Steve sighed, draping his arms around Bucky's neck and kissing him. "I fall for this crap every time. You probably weren't even mad."

"I wasn't mad." Bucky licked a hot stripe up the side of Steve's neck, nuzzling his earlobe. "I was injured. Mortally wounded. My baby didn't want me. What point was there to anything anymore?"

"Stop it," Steve warned, rocking up on his knees so Bucky could peel him out of his pajama pants and palm his ass with both hands. "Crocodile tears are the opposite of arousing."

"All I want is you, Steve," Bucky nibbled his shoulder. "You can't play me like that, I'll fall apart."

"Laying it on a little thick." Steve leaned back so Bucky's mouth could move across his chest, shivering when Bucky brushed a stubbled cheek against his nipple before kissing over his heart. "Gonna need a shovel for all that shit you're pushin'."

"The sweeter I talk, the pinker you get," Bucky observed, humming pleasantly. "I get under your skin, don't I? That's why you chafe so bad."

"Shut up, Barnes," Steve sighed, pulling Bucky's head back by the hair and covering his open mouth with Steve's own. Bucky held him up with one forearm under his ass. "Anything else I gotta do to finish this act of contrition?"

"Mm." Bucky scooted into the middle of his bed and started to lay back on the pillows, his arm falling away from Steve's ass once he was resting with his knees on either side of Bucky's stomach and following him down with more kisses until his hands were above Bucky's shoulders. "You want me?"

Steve nodded, eyes mostly closed, breathing softly against his mouth.

"You gonna lemme do you?"

Steve brushed Bucky's hair back from his temple and kissed him, slow and deep. Bucky trilled happily and stroked the outsides of Steve's thighs, squeezing his hips.

"You gonna do all the work, though, right? I just get to lay here and look handsome and enjoy the ride and make comments about how good you are."

Steve's shoulders shook in quiet laughter as he grunted his assent.

"Then, nah, I'm set. Do your penance, Rogers."

Shaking his head, Steve leaned up over Bucky and reached for the Vaseline jar on the table between their beds, tucked behind a stack of pulp novels. Bucky grinned at him as he unscrewed the lid, averting his eyes and resting his ass against Bucky's stomach.

"I can't believe this," he complained, low and breathy.

"You like it." Bucky stroked up and down Steve's hips with both hands, letting them curve around his waist. "God. Don't complain, but it's so _hot_ how _little_ you are. Ain't nothin' extra to you, just everything I want."

"Shut up," Steve shifted his weight and gathered up enough to slick two of his fingers, keeping his eyes away from Bucky's and blushing again, though it didn't spread as quickly this time.

"Tight little ass, slim, sexy thighs," Bucky's grin was in the periphery of Steve's vision. "Perfect, sulky mouth, big, pretty blue eyes, cutest nipples I've ever seen in my life."

"I swear before Christ," Steve muttered, bracing his left hand on Bucky's shoulder as he leaned forward. "I will dislocate your- hgnh-"

"Hips ridin' my dick? You might. You tend to get pretty enthusiastic when I make you bounce."

Steve whimpered in response, digging in with his nails, and Bucky turned his head to kiss Steve's wrist.

"Don't hurt yourself, baby. Relax. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"I hate you," Steve hissed. "Oh my God."

"You don't," Bucky chuckled. "Look at that. You're gonna start sweatin' if you don't calm down."

"I- can't- I can't-"

"Easy does it, Stevie. You don't have to start with both of 'em, you know, you can do the one first and come back around with the second."

"The- Hell do you- know about- it, it ain't- like you- ever- Ngh!"

"I don't have to do me." Bucky reached up and ran his fingers through Steve's hair, smiling more softly when Steve eagerly rubbed his cheek against Bucky's palm. "I do you. You go crazy. S'the prettiest thing. Unclench your jaw, baby. Breathe. Just breathe. Push in when you breathe out, sneak up on yourself. There you go! You can do it, baby."

"I hate this so much."

"Your dick and I don't believe you. Your thighs are shaking, Stevie. You're so pretty, baby. Open it up for me."

"Why- am I- oh _Jesus_ -"

"Because you're my baby and you wanna make me happy, and watching you open yourself up for me makes me so happy, Stevie, you're such a sweetheart. Gimme a kiss."

" _No_ , you're gonna-"

Bucky kissed him anyway, snaking one arm around him and pushing his wrist, muffling the resulting yelp with his mouth.

"-ky!"

"Such a good boy," Bucky crooned, nuzzling Steve's nose as he used his grip on Steve's wrist to push his fingers in and out. "My pretty baby. Spread 'em out, Stevie. We're gonna have some fun, aren't we?"

" _Asshole_ ," Steve accused, hiccuping, his eyes crossed. "You _asshole_."

"That's your department, doll," Bucky replied, adjusting his hips. "I'm the dick in this situation. Now, you gonna go a little faster, or am I gonna keep doing it for you?"

"You said- you wanted me to-"

"I do! It's the best when you do it. I'm just helping, that's all."

"Helping," Steve gulped. "Yeah, o-okay. Christ."

"Maybe you should go for three," Bucky mused. "Your fingers are skinnier than mine."

"You jerk." Steve's eyes rolled wildly. "You utter jerk. You moron. You-"

"This is meant to be an act of contrition," Bucky reminded him. "Do you wanna open yourself up and blow me at the same time? 'Cause we can do that, if you can't be nice."

Steve whined plaintively.

"I didn't think so. Now, try again. Why are you doin' that?"

"'Cause I wanna," Steve mumbled.

"And why do you wanna?"

"'Cause you wanmeto," Steve nuzzled Bucky's jaw and shivered.

"Mmhm, that's what I thought," Bucky kissed his temple. "That's my baby. You're my baby, ain't you, Stevie?"

"Yes," Steve whispered, kissing Bucky's throat.

"See, it ain't hard," Bucky chuckled and ran his hands over Steve's shoulders. "I'm good to you, ain't I? I've always been good to you. I take care of you."

"Bucky!" Steve whined against Bucky's chest.

Raising his eyebrow, Bucky reached down and ran his hand along Steve's wrist, tracing up the back of his hand, and then laughed huskily, delighted. "That's hot as Hell. Think you could do four?"

Steve dropped his forehead against Bucky's chest and make a harsh, choking sound.

"Okay, okay, not four. Maybe next time. Don't give yourself an attack, baby, breathe."

"I hate you," Steve moaned.

"You don't mean that," Bucky admonished. "You're just hot. You ready for it?"

"Please?"

"Well, move your damn hand, then, you goose. Can't take my dick and your fingers at the same time, you'll sprain your ass."

"That don't even make any sense," Steve complained, wiping his fingers against his thigh and surging up to kiss Bucky's mouth, plunging his tongue between his lips and wrapping his arms around his neck. They kissed for ages, Steve's cock rocking against Bucky's flat stomach until they were both starting to sweat.

"Tell me you want it," Bucky demanded, his lips against Steve's.

"I want it," Steve repeated, low and earnest.

"You want me." Bucky dropped his hand from Steve's hip to his own cock, squeezing it.

"Want you," Steve confirmed. "Want you so bad, Bucky."

"Okay, then," Bucky sighed, holding his cock with his right and and Steve's hip with his left. "Go and get it, baby."

He watched Steve's face as he sat back, the way his eyes rolled, his lips trembled, his chin dropped toward his chest and his narrow shoulders folded inward. He sat back until he was completely upright and Bucky was buried in him to the hilt, both of them breathless and bleary-eyed, Bucky reaching for both of Steve's hands and winding their fingers together.

"You okay, baby?"

"Bu- Bu-"

"Shh," Bucky soothed, squeezing his fingers. "Just relax, let yourself get used to it. You can do this, baby, you've done it before, you know you can do it."

"Bucky!"

He smirked, digging in with his heels and grinding his hips into Steve's ass, turning the breathy little exclamation into a panicked gasp.

"There you go. That's all of it, Stevie. You did it. Doesn't that feel good? You're so sexy. Gimme a little bounce, babe, show me what you like."

Bouncing made Steve groan. "How d'you-"

"Hm?" Bucky pushed his hips upward, managing to keep his eyes open long enough to watch Steve's lashes flutter and his lips tremble, smirking.

"Ngh! You keep talkin' so damn much, I can't-"

"You want me to shut up?" Bucky asked, moving his hips again. "Because I can be quiet, or I can be still, but I can't do both."

"Don't talk," Steve pleaded. "Move. Just- _move_ , Bucky."

Bucky laughed, low and hungry, tilting his head back into the pillow, rolling his hips up in slow, steady waves, watching Steve's neck go limp as his hands clenched Bucky's and pressed them down into the sheets. His nails bit the back of Bucky's hands, his hair loose from a shower hours ago and soft where it was falling past his temples and curtaining his forehead.

"Fuckin' pretty, baby." Bucky smiled, melting back into the bed, gazing up at him adoringly. "Feels so damn good."

"Shut up," Steve begged, rasping as he tried not to let his voice get loud or break. "God, shut the Hell up, I can't-"

"You shut up," Bucky countered, jerking his hips and eliciting a yelp Steve could barely muffle by clenching his jaw. "Tell me to shut up. You're s'posed to be apologizing to me. Be properly sorry, or you can go sleep by yourself."

"No," Steve yanked his hands loose and shoved his arms around Bucky's chest, burying his face in it. "No, no. Don't wanna. M'sorry. Dinmeanit. Lemme stay. Wanna stay."

"That's what I thought." Bucky stroked his back and closed his eyes, timing his own deep breaths to the way Steve was riding him. "Sit back, doll. Take it deeper, lemme get a hand on you."

"Maryn'Joseph," Steve groaned as Bucky's warm, strong fingers wrapped around his cock, knuckles brushing the sensitive skin under his sparse blond pubic hair. "Holy God damn, Bucky."

"Likin' this, aren't you?" Bucky murmured. "Look like it. Look like you're gettin' pretty hot, Stevie."

"Bucky," Steve gasped.

"None of that," Bucky warned. "No wheezing. Deep breaths. If you can't take it and breathe, I'll give it to you and you can focus on breathing."

"No, s'okay," Steve insisted, tucking his chin against his chest and starting to vigorously work himself up and down on his knees, his eyes closed so he missed when Bucky tossed his own head ecstatically and his lips curved into a grin. "S'okay, m'okay, m'God, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky-"

"D'you have any idea," Bucky drawled, his free hand moving to clutch at the back of Steve's neck, tangling in his hair and pulling it back so Bucky could squirm in and suck his throat. "How fuckin' hot it is, baby, that the last damn word you lose is my name?"

"Bucky," Steve croaked.

"You're _delicious_ ," Bucky assured him. "Beautiful. Glorious, baby. Oh, baby. Baby, baby. Little faster- oh, yeah. Just like that. Just- like that."

He timed the pulse and stroke and slide of his fingers with the impact of Steve's hips. The creak of the mattress was much more subtle, with Steve doing the moving, than it usually was when Bucky was pounding into him. They fucked steady, deep and even, sweat beading on the small of Steve's back and dampening the sheets under Bucky's.

"Gonna make me come, baby," Bucky moaned softly into Steve's hair. "Go a little faster, Stevie, take it. Take that cock. Jesus. _Jesus_ , baby."

"Bucky!"

He wasn't surprised at the stickiness that spilled across the back of his hand; he didn't relent, not even when Steve attempted to use Bucky's shoulder to smother a wail, mostly successful because his wailing wasn't very loud rather than because the pressing of his mouth to Bucky's skin was steady or even firm. By the time Steve had gathered his wits enough to try and push Bucky's hands away from his achingly sensitive cock, he immediately fumbled and failed as Bucky was grinding deep into him and filling him with thick, wet heat.

"Christ," Bucky hissed. "Oh, Christ, Jesus."

"Bucky." Steve scratched desperately at Bucky's wrist, lips quivering.

"Sorry," Bucky carefully slipped his hand away from Steve's cock, trying not to smirk at the grateful whine it prompted and kissing his temple. "Mm, don't- don't stop yet, just, ooh. Slow it, slow it down, baby. There you go. Oh, that's nice."

"We good?" Steve managed.

"I guess you can come in outta the dog house." Bucky worked his shoulders back into the bed and lifted his hand to his mouth, smirking when Steve's breath shuddered as he watched Bucky's tongue clean the come from his fingers. "You need to learn to be more careful how you talk to me. Ain't puttin' my heart out here for my health."

"M'sorry," Steve kissed Bucky's chest over his heart, tucked the top of his head under Bucky's chin, squeezing close. "M'a punk. Dondeserve you. S'damn good t'me, Bucky."

"Ain't half bad yourself, sweetheart. Most of the time, I feel pretty lucky, too." He looped his arms over Steve's waist. "Sleepin' here? Or am I still too smoky?"

"Don'le'my face in y'hair," Steve advised. "Should be okay."

"I gotcha. Go to sleep. Wake you up with another round, if you manage to be gentle and don't stab me too much with all those knees and elbows."

"Bucky," Steve reflected pleasantly.

"Mhm."


End file.
